


Drift

by tanglingshadows



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3340193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanglingshadows/pseuds/tanglingshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he could go back, if he could be in that moment again. It shocked him what he would give up to be there and have her close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic belongs to me. It's character's belong to AMC, but the storyline is mine.
> 
> This notice will not appear again in this story, but it stands for the entirety of the work.

Drift

This is just something I had to get down. I hope you enjoy it.

Contains a small scene of self-harm.

* * *

He hadn't known what heartbreak felt like until he held her weight in his arms and carried her from the hospital. He hadn't understood true helplessness until he had to leave her body in a car because there were too many walkers and the car wouldn't start to get them all away.

He squeezed her hand and leaned down right beside her ear. She couldn't hear him as he whispered his broken apology or see him as the first of many more tears leaked out of his eyes and dropped to the seat beside her.

Now, weeks later, he walked in a daze, her words on loop in his brain.

_You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon._

_You're gonna be tha last man standin'. Ya are._

He wiped his brow and looked around at his group. The world sat heavily on all their shoulders, and the group got smaller with each step they took. Maybe not physically gone, but they were ending up like him, too lost in their own thoughts and the past to actually function.

Sasha hadn't spoken a word since they had buried Tyreese a few days earlier. Maggie cried at the drop of hat, and Glenn didn't know what to do for her. Carol had closed off completely. Carl walked with more purpose than any of them for some reason, and Rick hadn't left game mode since the church when he killed Gareth.

And Daryl just didn't give a fuck about the others. They weren't his people.

When the sun was starting to hang low in the sky, they started to set up camp for the night.

"I'm gonna go give it a look. See if I can find us some food," he muttered and didn't wait for a reply.

Hunting used to be something he loved to do. It was quiet and everything went back to normal for a few hours, but now, it all reminded him of Beth. He saw her tracking game through the woods, giving him sass about being better than him one day. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend she was setting up their camp with security wire and starting the fire.

If he could go back, if he could be in that moment again…

It shocked him what he would give up to be there and have her close. See her smile and hear her sing. To be in that coffin watching her through the candlelight and thinking that she might have been an angel.

Now, she was. She had to be.

That thought drug him down a little more because if there was a person on earth that didn't deserve to get into heaven with her, it was him. And he still couldn't seem to regret putting a bullet through that bitch cop's brain.

Daryl swallowed hard and slid down to sit at the base of a tall pine tree. His eyes filled with tears again as he saw the moment repeat through his thoughts. She had been right there, and he had let her step forward again. He hadn't stopped her when he had the chance. Her blood on his face, how his heart must have stopped the moment hers did because he was sure that he was just a shell now.

He didn't know what it was that he had felt until the moment he knew she would never talk to him again. Daryl had never loved someone or thought about the future, but he had with her. He could imagine them in the funeral home, eating pig's feet and peanut butter while she sang and he pretended he didn't like it.

She had knocked down his guard completely, and now he was exposed and without her there to try and tell him that things would be okay. That there was still good people out there, and he needed to have faith.

He had been right, he thought bitterly as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

The good ones didn't survive.

They had honor and a code, and they went out just as bravely as they lived.

But not him.

He still managed to escape death even when he begged for it. Beth, she had given up a little once, but she had changed her mind and moved on. He was so tired, though, and so ready for the constant ache in his chest to go away and the flow of tears to stop when he was alone.

He wanted quiet and peace. He wanted the funeral home again.

The cigarette dangled from his lips as he unsheathed his knife and stared down at the blade. Beth had worn this knife for so long, but it hadn't been enough time. Slowly, he lifted it to his forearm and pressed down just enough for the skin to break and small drop of blood pool around the tip.

"Just what do ya think you're doin', Daryl Dixon?"

His head shot up and there stood Beth, looking just as beautiful as the last night he had seen her.

"Ya ain't here," he muttered.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not, but that doesn't mean that I'm gone."

He pressed down harder and the sharp sting caused him to flinch. "I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get to tell ya what ya meant to me."

"And I didn't get to tell ya either," she whispered and took a few steps forward, but her image flickered a little. "Please stop. For me. Please don't do this."

"I don't wanna be here no more," he said through a sob. "I'm tired of bein' alone. I miss ya with me, and everyone's just done gone and forgot about ya, but I'm still here."

"Daryl, it's easier to try and forget than remember all that pain."

"I don't wanna forget," he whispered brokenly. "I think—I think I'm rememberin' your voice all wrong now, and I don't wanna lose it all."

All of a sudden she was right beside him, kneeling down. Her face was free of blood and stitches, and she smiled at him like she did when she wanted to burn down the shine shack.

"And we'll buy beer to shotgun, and we'll lay in the lawn, and we'll be good. Yeah, we'll be good," she sang softly.

Daryl dropped the knife and lunged for her, but he fell straight to the forest floor. He bled and cried and knew the pain he felt would never go away.

* * *

They kept walking day after day in the hot Georgia heat. No one asked about his arm, but he had a feeling that they knew. It didn't matter, though. Just like her, he hadn't gone through with it.

Life on the road got harder and food got scarcer. They lost Carol and Noah when a herd stumbled up on them one night, and just like that, he had lost his oldest friend. Another person he cared about, snatched away.

At least she had gone out protecting Judith.

He imagined that both Beth and Tyreese were looking down at her when she did that with a smile. She was at peace with herself now. Finally put it all back into balance.

It was just their luck that they found the safe zone the next morning. Had they just kept walking the night before, they wouldn't have lost two of their group, but that was what life was in this world now.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty.

Once they were welcomed and put where they were supposed to go, Daryl decided that he didn't like it. It was closed in, and they were assigned jobs and apartments. He felt like he was a prisoner.

Everyone scattered job wise, but they all lived in the same chunk of a run down apartment complex. Rick had asked if he wanted to live with him and Michonne with the kids, but Daryl shook his head and went into the small one bedroom apartment that had been offered to him.

The men he worked with on the wall didn't talk to him, and he didn't care. He was a lookout, meant to protect the people inside the wall from the bad shit outside of it.

If they only knew how many people he had failed in this same position, they would have put him someplace else.

One day, he sat in his apartment, staring at the blank television when Maggie knocked on his door.

She didn't wait for him to answer, probably because she knew that he wouldn't. He hadn't been good about visiting them beyond the quick wave he sent their way in the hall as he came in for the night.

"How ya holdin' up?" She asked as she sat down in the recliner across from him.

He shrugged and started picking at his nails. "Ya need somethin'?" He asked, hoping to get her gone soon.

"She wouldn't have wanted ya so lost, Daryl."

He met her eyes and shook his head. "Ya don't know what she woulda wanted. Ya hadn't seen her since tha prison fell, and she changed."

"Not so much as to want tha person she loved to cut himself and spend hours alone in his apartment."

Daryl snorted. "Ya don't know shit."

"I know that if you're this torn up about it, somethin' happened. Ya love her, and if ya loved her then she loved ya, too."

Tears started to fill his eyes, and he shook his head. "Just get out."

"No, not until ya admit ya need to start livin' again."

He glared at her and said, "It's easy to say that when ya got someone waitin' on ya back in your room. Now, get tha fuck outta my apartment."

"Daryl," she pleaded as she stood up.

Her eyes reminded him of Beth's and the sadness in them took him back to the porch when she talked about how much she had missed her sister then to earlier that day when he had yelled that she would never see her sister again, and he snapped.

"Get tha fuck out!" He hollered and kicked the coffee table over. "Don't want ya here!"

Maggie started to cry but walked to the door. "It's not helpin' ya to be here all alone."

"I'm always alone," he yelled. "It shoulda been me! Fuck all this shit!" He hit the wall and punched again and again. "She should be here! It shoulda been me!"

He didn't hear Rick, but he felt him pull him away from the wall and down to the floor. He pushed his fists into his eyes and sobbed, his bloody knuckles mixing with his tears.

"I know, man," Rick whispered. "I know."

* * *

Maggie kept away from him after that, but Rick came over every evening. He had bartered some bullets for a bottle of whiskey and they would have a glass each visit.

"I never got to fix it," Rick had said the first night. "I put it off 'cause I thought I'd have more time, but I didn't."

Daryl drained his glass and leaned back. "I was gonna tell her," he spoke quietly. "But we got overrun, and she got taken. I didn't keep her safe."

"Ya did tha best ya could," Rick said and finished his glass, too. "Now, we just gotta figure out how to survive it."

"Ya still have her," Daryl whispered. "She's in Carl and Judith." He paused and looked around the room and over his body. "I have nothin'. It's like she was never here."

Three nights later, Rick brought a friend with him to their nightly get together.

"Daryl, this is Jackson."

He nodded toward the man and took a drink as the man opened up a small case he had brought with him. Inside was full of different pots of ink and varying sizes of needles. "It'll hurt like a mothafucker," Jackson said. "If you're up for it, though, I'll do good work."

Daryl closed his eyes against the tears and held out his right wrist. "Beth," he whispered. "Just put 'Beth'."

In the end, he had her name placed there and a few nights later, a small 'c' on his trigger finger.

* * *

"Your wife?" A man had asked on the wall as he pointed to his healing tattoo.

"Nah," Daryl scoffed. "Girl coulda done a lot fuckin' better than me."

That was the first time he talked about her without feeling the lump in his throat. It was also the first day that he started seeing her regularly again. A flash of blonde hair, a smile, then she would flicker out.

* * *

Winter arrived and Daryl was making it day-to-day. He and Rick still talked every evening, and that helped him get it all out. They both had so many regrets when it came to the women in their lives.

On a terribly cold day, Daryl stayed inside while the others went out to play around in the snow. He had been invited, they always invited him, and he always said no. He might have gotten better, but he wasn't ready to be around every single person he had told her that she would never see again.

He was sharpening his knives when his front door banged open, Carl stood there huffing and puffing.

"What's wrong?" He asked and jumped up.

"Nothin'. Ya gotta stay here," he said. "Dad told me to get ya to stay here."

"Did tha fences fall?" He asked and went to the window. There was nothing he could see since he was almost in the middle of their safe zone.

"Nah, but he's on his way, but he didn't want ya walkin' around and run into ya by accident."

Daryl shook his head. "Did someone get hurt? Is Judith okay?"

"Everyone's fine," Carl said and looked away.

A few minutes later, Rick walked in and nodded for Carl to get out. Daryl watched as he slowly approached him, breathing a little heavy, but his eyes were red like he had been crying.

"I need ya to sit down," he said quietly and Daryl obeyed instantly. "It's gonna sound crazy, but we just got some new people at tha gate."

Daryl tried to think of someone who would show up that the group would act this way over, but he was at a loss. The only people he cared about where gone. His brother had been taken out by him, Beth had died and most likely in his arms, and Carol had been swarmed as she slammed the truck door behind Judith.

There was movement to his left and Daryl turned his head to see Beth standing in his hallway, smiling at him softly, her cheeks had small scars and there was one on her forehead. It was the first time he had imagined her so healed. He turned away from her to Rick.

"Who was it?" He ignored the figure getting closer until she stood on the other side of the couch. Daryl glanced at her again, but she didn't flicker like she usually did.

"Did ya hit your head while I was away?" She asked, but he didn't answer. It wasn't the first time she had talked to him.

"Daryl?" Rick asked quietly.

He finally looked back to Rick, and he saw that Rick was staring at Beth, too.

"No," Daryl said and started to back up.

"Daryl," she said softly.

"What tha fuck is this?" His back hit the wall and Beth rounded the couch. "You're dead. You were dead." He shook his head. "Am I dead?" He asked, looking between them. "Did I die?"

Rick clenched his jaw and tilted his head away. "No. We were wrong."

The air left his lungs and he hit his knees right as Beth stopped in front of him.

"It's okay, Daryl. I'm good. Everythin's fine."

He pressed his face into her stomach and cried, and she ran her fingers through his hair. Through it all, he heard the door click shut, and after a few seconds, she started singing softly, and he could breathe again.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

This is the next part of Drift. It's Beth's journey.

This story will be three chapters long plus an epilogue.

* * *

His mission was simple.

Clear.

That's all he had to do, and he could do that anywhere. It would be even better to clear a path for people to follow—to find sanctuary. He was the shepherd now, and he was clearing a path for the sheep to follow.

It was a pure accident that he stumbled upon the church in the middle of the woods. It was a sign from God that he found the map with Rick's name written on it. It was proof that he was doing what he was called to do.

Now, instead of moving and clearing, he had a destination in mind. He would clear that path all the way to D.C., and God would usher the sheep inside the gates, and he would be redeemed and could finally rest.

He left three gifts on the altar and grinned as he felt a little hope settle into his weary bones.

Once he was outside, he did a quick sweep of the yard. There were plenty of walkers that had already been cleared, their bodies decomposing back into the earth. A car was off to the side of the church, and Morgan walked that way to see if there was anything inside that would help him on his trip.

When he got close enough, he heard the low noises of a walker trapped inside, and he sighed heavily before pulling open the back door. A girl lay across the bench seat, her blonde hair streaked with dried blood. He wondered why that hadn't put her down, before he pulled out his own knife to do the job.

Her head didn't turn toward him like walkers normally would. She didn't gnash her teeth or try and pull herself closer to him. As he watched her, it was like she was in a fevered dream, tossing and turning slightly, mumbling under her breath.

He reached out and placed a cool hand on her forehead. She was burning up, and she flinched from his touch. When he pulled his hand back, he saw the dot of blood on his palm. The girl rolled over and her face became visible.

There were scars on her face with stitches that should have been taken out days ago and a small wound near her hairline.

His grip on his knife tightened, and he knew what he should do, what was the kind thing to do, what he was called to do, but the girl sighed, and in her sleep, whispered, "Don't go, daddy."

He almost dropped his knife as Duane's last words were breathed out through this girl's mouth. After several seconds of shaking and trying to breathe again, Morgan closed his eyes and nodded.

"Okay," he whispered then cleared his throat. "I hear ya, Lord. Okay."

It took him several attempts to get her out of the car and into the church. He found several bottles of water in the floorboard near her, and wandered how she had gotten it, but then decided it didn't matter.

It was a miracle she was alive, and whether she had found the strength to get the water herself or her group had left it in there when they obviously ran from walkers, it didn't matter. There were letters on the bottle caps E, A, G, M, R, T, but that didn't mean anything to him, and he doubted if she lived it would mean anything to her.

Once he laid her in a pew, he looked over her head wound and knew, without a doubt, that they thought she was dead and what was worse, they thought since it was a head shot that she wouldn't turn.

He hit his knees and took a deep breath before he starting praying, asking God to heal this girl before him, allow him to show her the way back to her people, or if they were all dead, deliver her to a safe place with good people.

It was two days of praying and forcing water down her throat before she woke up, briefly, and looked around with blurry eyes. "Daryl?" She had asked quietly.

"Don't know him," Morgan had said. "But if he's alive, we'll find him for ya."

She didn't respond, and he realized she had passed back out.

Morgan spent the next week clearing the general area near the church and taking care of the girl. He found it funny to call her that, seeing as how she was probably nearing twenty, but she seemed so small to him laying there that he couldn't see anything else but a child in need a protection.

She asked for a Maggie a few times, Daryl nearly every time she was awake, sometimes she would call out for her daddy or whisper Judith. The longer she stayed in that in between state, the less confident he felt in her recovery.

Then one morning maybe two weeks after he had found her, she was awake and staring at him as he woke up.

"I'm Morgan," he said quietly and held out his hand for her to shake. She took it gingerly. "Do ya know who ya are? How ya got here?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "It's on the tip of my tongue," she said quietly, "but I cain't find it."

He nodded and reached for the closest bottle of water. "We'll give it some time."

"What happened?" She asked before she took a drink.

"Found ya like this. I believe your group left ya 'cause they thought you was dead."

"Why would they think that?" She flinched a little and brought her hand to her forehead to where the pain must have radiated from. She froze when her hand touched the healing bullet hole. After a few seconds she gasped, "Oh."

* * *

Walking was different, she figured that out quickly. Her equilibrium was off, and her emotions were out of control. She would lash out at Morgan who was trying to help then feel so guilty that she would cry. Crying gave her a fierce headache, so she tried to breath deep and stop from doing it.

"We ain't got much time left to stay here," Morgan had said a couple of days after she woke up for good. He had explained his purpose to her and how he would direct her to a safe area before continuing on. She didn't remember much, but he would talk about Rick and the map, and she would get a tingle of recognition as her mind searched for a face but came up empty.

In her dreams, she would see people that she knew, she would say names, and they would say hers back, but when she woke up, everything stayed beyond her reach.

"We can go," she said and tried to eat some of the canned pears on her plate.

"Ya were sayin' thangs when ya were out," he spoke and nodded to the pew that had been her sick bed. "Ya asked for people, said names. Ya think if I told ya what ya said that ya'd remember?"

She shrugged. "I don't even remember my own name right now. Anythin' would be good."

"There was a Judith that ya mentioned and a Maggie," he said and watched her face intently. Those names danced in her head as she fought to remember the face to match them. "Ya wanted your daddy," he whispered, and a flash of a man kneeling in the grass went through her thoughts, and she gasped. That was followed by the memory of singing to a small baby in a barred in room. "Ya asked for Daryl a lot."

As if on cue, the damn burst and she closed her eyes against the torrent of memories that spilled over her.

The farm.

Her momma and brother.

Trying to kill herself with a shard of glass.

_I'm sorry._

The prison.

Her daddy and how Rick pleaded for peace.

_We can change. We're not too far gone._

Getting out with Daryl.

_We gotta go, Beth. We gotta go._

Somehow, someway falling in love with him.

_We should burn it down._

Then the funeral home.

_Beth! Beth! Run! Run! Beth, pry open a window. Get your shit.  
I'm not gonna leave you._

Being taken.

Grady and all the horrors within.

That stupid, split second decision to stab Dawn with scissors and taking a bullet to the head while Daryl was just a few steps away.

_I get it now._

She tried to stop the tears, didn't want the headache that followed, but her heart broke over and over as she relived everything. When the sobs became too much and the pain too great, her body shut down, and she was met with darkness again.

* * *

They had been on the road for a couple of hours before she asked for a break. When they sat down side-by-side, she said, "I know Rick."

Morgan nodded. "That's good. Looks like they're headin' for D.C."

When they got up and started walking again, Beth felt a renewed energy with each step she took closer to them. She could only hope and pray that they were still all alive and together still.

Maggie hadn't been in the hallway, so she tried not to think about the bad things that could have happened there. Glenn wasn't there either, so maybe him and Maggie were together and hadn't found the group yet at all.

She hadn't been able to talk to Carol before the exchange because Dawn kept them separated and guarded, so if she knew anything, Beth didn't know it.

There was one thing she was certain of, though. Daryl Dixon was alive, and he had found her. Now, she was going to go and find him.

* * *

They had been walking down Route 16 for a while. Snow was falling and gathering on the ground. It wouldn't be too long before they had to stop and find shelter.

Morgan didn't want to stick to the woods anymore because he was afraid that he would get turned around, so they had moved to the road. When Beth asked him why they didn't just stay in the trees in view of the road, he said, "It's time to be out in tha open."

"This road is pretty clear already," she said next.

He paused mid-stride and looked toward her. "I'm not tha first man that's been called to clear, and I won't be tha last."

"This is a good sign, though, right? No walkers tracks in tha snow?"

Morgan nodded and started walking again. Beth followed after him, eying the trees and the surrounding area. She had no weapon of her own, only a borrowed knife from Morgan, but she could handle herself. As she scanned the woods, she got the feeling they were being watched, and she walked a little faster.

Not even an hour later, man stepped from the trees with his hands raised. "I'm Aaron, and I have some good news."

Beth was instantly wary, and Morgan was downright confrontational, telling him to leave and go away.

"I've watched y'all for a few days," Aaron said and that did nothing to gain Morgan's trust. "You're good people, and she could use some medical care it seems. Plus, the snow will keep on, and you'll die out here."

Beth shook her head. "I could've used that a few months ago. I'm as good as I'm gonna get now. What I could use is a hot shower."

"We have those," Aaron said with a smile. "We have all the amenities you've been without. We're self-sustaining and safe."

Beth looked at her boots, Morgan said, "No, we're tryin' to clear. We need to get to D.C."

"D.C. is a lost cause," Aaron said quietly. "It fell a long time ago."

Beth's heart dropped, and she fought the urge to cry. "We're tryin' to find my family," she said finally. "Last we knew, they were headed to D.C."

"When?"

Beth looked at Morgan who sighed. "Probably six months ago. We're from Georgia. It took us a while to get here, and Beth wasn't feelin' too good when I found her."

Aaron looked torn then groaned. "I shouldn't be saying this, but we got a big group a few months ago. They came from Georgia, too."

Beth's heart started racing. "Is Daryl there?" She watched as his eyes widened, and he seemed shocked that she would ask for that particular person. "He's there, isn't he?"

Aaron nodded. "There's a man named Daryl."

"Does he have a crossbow?"

Another nod.

"Is he okay?"

Aaron shook his head. "No, I don't think he is. He keeps to himself, and doesn't seem to be comfortable within our walls."

Tears leaked over her eyes, and she smiled despite the pain. "That's my Daryl."

* * *

Morgan wasn't happy to be going to this safe zone, and he told her repeatedly that it could be a lie. That Aaron might have been listening in, but Beth reminded him over and over that she hadn't mentioned Daryl's name since they left the church in Georgia, and she seriously doubted that Aaron had been tracking them that long.

Once they reached the gate to the city, Beth shook her head. "It's safe here."

"Yes," Aaron said as the gate opened.

The first face she saw was Rick's, staring at her like the ghost she was and her sister dropping to her knees on the cold, snowy ground when she met her gaze.

"Beth?" He asked and took a step forward before scrubbing a hand over his mouth. "Oh my god." Then he noticed Morgan and had to turn away completely, raising his hands against his head.

Beth moved to Maggie and kneeled beside her, hugging her tightly. "Hey, it's okay. I'm right here." Beth got pushed away as Maggie leap up and ran to the fence before vomiting all over the ground.

"Carl," Rick said quickly. "Go make sure Daryl's in his apartment. Don't let him out."

"What's goin' on?" Beth asked and looked to where Glenn was comforting Maggie. "I know that y'all thought I was dead, but geez, maybe ya could seem a little bit more excited that I actually didn't die."

"We had to leave ya," Rick said, his voice thick with tears. "There were too many walkers, and we got overrun. Daryl had to leave ya in tha car. We had to drag him away or he woulda just stayed there."

"I'm back," she whispered. "It's okay."

Maggie took off jogging down the street, and Glenn walked to Beth, pulling her in for a hug and whispering, "We're guiltier than they are. I'll calm her down, but once ya know, she doesn't think you'll forgive her."

Beth scrunched up her forehead in confusion. "What?"

"Just let me calm her down first," he said and left her standing beside Rick.

"So, I play a pretty good possum then?"

Rick cleared his throat and looked away. "Beth, I had your blood on my face. Daryl carried ya down five flights of stairs while ya hung like a damn rag doll. How?"

He raked hands through his hair.

"Just wasn't my time," she said quietly.

He looked to Morgan. "How'd ya find her?"

"Have to clear, Rick. Thought she was one of 'em with tha noises comin' from tha car." He looked to Beth and shrugged. "There were a coupla times after that I thought I should just end it for her. She was delirious for a while. It's tha hand of God, Rick. She should've been taken with tha fever."

"Maybe daddy just talked an angel down is all," she mumbled.

"Jesus Christ. _Daryl_ ," Rick said quietly.

"What's wrong with Daryl?" Beth asked and walked toward Rick. "He's okay isn't he?"

He nodded. "He's still alive."

After a few seconds, he motioned them forward. "C'mon inside. We need to close tha gate. I'll take ya to Daryl, but I really should talk to him first."

Beth nodded. "I imagine it'll be a big shock."

"Yeah," Rick muttered. "Morgan, I'll be back, and we'll find ya a place to stay."

"Oh, I'm not stayin'. There's too many towns 'round here that need clearin'."

"You'll stay tha night at least. I'd like to catch up with ya."

Beth watched Morgan hesitate then he finally nodded. "Just tha night, though."

Once that was settled, she fell into step beside Rick as they walked down the street.

There were beautiful homes all along the street with manicured lawns and wrap around porches. It looked like a photo spread out of Southern Living.

When they got toward the town center, it changed to more business fronts and a few apartment complexes. Rick led her to one that looked so normal and like before that she couldn't help but laugh. When Rick looked at her, she shrugged. "This is unbelievable."

He nodded then cleared his throat. "Just wait in tha hall while I talk to him, okay?"

"Okay."

She heard Rick's voice from within, but he was speaking so softly that she couldn't make out the words. She took a step forward against her better judgment, the pull to see Daryl just too strong to listen to Rick's warning.

He was sitting on the couch with his back to her. His hair still overly long and his vest covered his jacket. Daryl turned when she took a step further into the hall, almost into the living room, and stared at her for a second.

There was no shock in his eyes, just drinking her in, before he turned back to face Rick.

"Who was it?" He asked Rick. Daryl didn't watch as she walked closer to him to stand beside the couch. Her mind went wild with scenarios as to why he wasn't paying her any attention. Had he forgotten her? Taken a kick to the head or maybe he just thought he was seeing things.

"Did ya hit your head while I was away?" She asked with a bit of a laugh in her voice.

"Daryl?" Rick was staring at him intently and looked a little scared.

Finally, Daryl looked back up at Rick who was staring straight at her, and Daryl turned his head to face her again. This time his eyes widened and he started to breathe hard and fast.

"No," Daryl said and shook his head.

"Daryl," Beth spoke in a soft voice, trying to calm him down.

"What tha fuck is this?" His back hit the wall and Beth rounded the couch. "You're dead. Ya were dead." He started crying uncontrollably and shaking his head. "Am I dead?" He asked, looking between them. "Did I die?"

Beth's heart broke, and even though it hurt so damn much, she didn't even bother to stop the tears from forming in her eyes or the small sobs that were working their way up her throat.

Rick clenched his jaw and tilted his head away. "No. We were wrong."

Daryl hit his knees right as she stood in front of him. This poor man, this sweet, caring, man. He was completely shattered at her feet, and she was so close to being in the same situation.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and said, "It's okay, Daryl. I'm good. Everythin's fine."

He pressed his face into her stomach and cried, and she ran her fingers through his hair. It was dirty and tangled, but she couldn't imagine him any other way. He might have been a mess, but he was her mess.

She thought back to the night at the funeral home, and how he asked her to sing for him. So many days and night had passed since that night, since peanut butter and pig's feet, and candlelit redneck dinners. So much time and so many lives lived and lost since her whispered, "Oh."

With a steadying breath, she held him in her hands while he mourned and celebrated at the same time, and she sung Daryl Dixon another song.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

Thank you all for reading!

* * *

Days passed, and they never left his apartment. Their friends brought them food but left it outside the door, and her sister slipped a letter under the door, detailing the events after the prison.

It took Beth a few hours to work up the courage to open it after what Glenn said, but she sat on the couch, her back to Daryl's chest as she read her sister's admission of guilt and abandonment.

In truth, there was so little to go on. There was no way for Maggie to know where to look. At the same time, if Daryl had said that Maggie was alive to her, after being partnered up for months, she would have taken his word and started looking.

"It doesn't matter," she whispered after she read the letter for the second time. "It all happened for a reason."

"I don't get it then," Daryl said quietly.

His arms were wrapped around her and touching seemed to ground him. They hadn't been romantic in any way, but it was obvious this wasn't just a friendship. It was more, and one day, maybe very soon, it would blossom into that.

Right now, they were just getting used to knowing the other was alive and safe. That they had survived.

He asked, "Why'd we have to go through so much shit just to get here?"

"'Cause I got an ego and tried to kill a woman in a bulletproof vest with a tiny pair of scissors."

Daryl tensed behind her and his voice was hard. "That ain't remotely funny."

"I know," she said and squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry for bein' stupid like that."

"I'm sorry I let ya get taken in tha first place."

It wasn't a game really, but if one of them apologized, the other said one right back.

_I'm sorry for stickin' my fingers in tha jelly._

_I'm sorry for sayin' tha camp sucked._

_I'm sorry for gettin' your new clothes dirty._

_I'm sorry for cryin' over schnapps._

_I'm sorry for yellin' at ya about your wrist._

_I'm sorry for askin' if ya'd been in jail._

The list went on and on, and she imagined it would get bigger, too.

"I missed ya," she said and kissed his hand.

"Missed ya, too," he mumbled against her hair.

"Ya know, we gotta come outta here soon, right?"

"Nah," he said with a shake of his head. "I'm still scared this whole thang's a dream."

"I'm not a dream, and you're not dead."

"I felt like it for a long time."

Beth turned her head to the side and met his eyes. "What do ya feel like now?"

Daryl licked his lips, and his eyes looked just like they did that last night they were together. Squinted and full of things he wished that she could just know instead of having to speak.

"Like I can breathe."

Beth nodded. "I know what ya mean."

* * *

She was assigned to the school. Deanna had said she had a motherly quality about her, but she also knew how to protect herself and others.

"What better qualified person do I have that can teach the children and keep them safe, too?"

Since all the other people had been there since the turn and had no outside experience, Beth amounted to being the school police officer that also taught music.

It was fun, and she smiled a lot. Daryl still worked the wall, but had changed his shift to fit her schedule so that they were home at the same time.

_Home._

It was such an odd concept. It was even stranger that it was with Daryl Dixon.

He was quiet, but at night, he would curl around her and whisper over her shoulder.

Daryl told her about growing up, about his dad and mom, his brother and the loss he still felt. He got to talking about how he had found purpose after the world ended, and that he was sorry he couldn't save her daddy.

He told her that, at first, he resented being stuck with her after. Then how he came to admire her, how something changed inside of him between the moonshine and the funeral home, and admiration turned into something else.

Daryl spoke about chasing down the car that took her, a group of men that found him, and Terminus then after. He told her that he wanted to give up, but every time he almost gave in, she would flash in front of his eyes. A vision, all knowing and pleading. Then turned into smiles that made him keep moving forward.

Beth listened intently. She took in every word and held them close. In daylight, he would barely make eye contact, but in darkness, he told her everything.

* * *

Daryl was certain that he was dead, and that—even if it was the apocalypse—it was his version of heaven.

Beth was there with him at the end of every day. He got to hold her all night long.

As soon as he asked, someone switched shifts with him and took the hated night shift, letting him walk to and from work with Beth and spend his evenings in their apartment.

Everything was just coming so easy. Even the light touches and smiles he was sending her way more and more. He had just about gained up the courage to kiss her.

He needed pep talk or something because the idea of taking her face into his scarred hands and bringing his lips to hers caused a small panic to worm its way through his chest.

_Soon._

Daryl would try soon.

* * *

It started like any other day.

They woke up at sunrise and ate some of the oatmeal that was rationed to them then Daryl walked her to the school where she would get ready for the kids before they showed up in another hour or so.

After that, he walked to the portion of wall he kept watch over. Everything was solid, same as the day before.

Lunchtime came and went with him eating some leftover spaghetti Beth had made the night before.

It was calm—an easy day.

Then he heard the whistle.

A low whistle meant a small breach in the wall. It meant that anyone within hearing distance needed to bar the doors. Most of the time it was ten walkers or less, so they barely got far at all.

Daryl left his post and started walking quickly toward the whistling sound along the eastern wall. He was a block away from his post when he heard the tower bells ringing. His heart dropped, and he started sprinting.

The bells meant the wall had fallen. There was a herd coming.

The eastern side of the wall was closet to the school.

He tried not to panic, but there was no use in that. When the herd came into view, they had already breached past the school, and there was no way he could get to her now. It was history replaying itself in his head, and he thought back to the truck and leaving her bloody body there as walkers crashed all around them.

He thought about walking around in a haze for months because she was gone, and so was he.

"Daryl!" Glenn yelled and pulled him back. "She's okay. You know she's got this."

Finally, he pulled himself out of those thoughts and went to work taking care of the first walkers that made their way to him. He fought as hard as he could, moving toward the school, but always getting pushed back by the seemingly never-ending stream of walkers.

One growled over his shoulder, and he turned to face it. There was no way he would be able to fight it off before its teeth ripped into his shoulder. He breathed, "Not yet," and then a bullet ripped through the front of the walker's forehead.

He whipped around and there she was. She had the older kids, the ones who had taken shooting lessons, up on the roof with guns, and she was pointing hers to where he was. His breath caught at the sight of her but now wasn't the time for that.

He backed away and pulled Glenn with him. Once he was a safe distance, he locked eyes with her and raised his hand circling it. "Lit 'em up!"

Gunfire poured into the street from above as him and Glenn found shelter in an apartment building that someone opened the door to when they realized two people were stuck out in the fight.

"Thanks," he panted and Glenn repeated it.

"Any time," the old man said and barred the door again. "You boys put up quite a fight."

"It's what we do," Glenn said as strongly as he could.

"Ya got roof access?" Daryl asked and stood straight up.

"Yeah, you'll need to take tha stairs all tha way up to tha fourth floor then you'll see tha ladder."

"Thanks."

Daryl ran up the stairs, not even caring about the fact he had lost all his breath in the fight. When he reached the roof, he looked two buildings away as Beth had laid down her own rifle and was pulling her hair back, giving out pointers to kids as they targeted the remaining walkers.

He raised his hands and ran them through his hair before dropping to his knees. He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes to stop the prickling sensation there.

"Daryl!" She yelled and he popped up as quickly as he could, catching her smile across the space between them.

"Yeah?"

"Ya alright?"

He stared at her for a moment. Her hair was almost white blonde in the light, and she was smiling at him like she was so damn proud of herself. He thought back so many years to the farm, to the beautiful girl he had known only in passing and how she had changed and grown, how he started to respect her and that grew into something so deep, he had no way of explaining it. The crushing loss, and the brief memory of her in his arms with blood staining that pretty blonde hair.

He choked back a sob and nodded.

"I'm right here," she yelled. "Ya should know it'll take a lot more to get rid of me, Mr. Dixon."

He had no control of the words that fell from his lips or the volume at which they crossed the space. "I love you!" Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. "So fuckin' much," he finished in a whisper and held his head in his hands again.

It would be hours before the streets were finally clear and the wall patched up enough for the residents to go out in the streets again. Even more hours would pass before he was able to drag himself back to their apartment after piling up bodies and double-checking the fences.

Beth lay on the couch, sleeping, when he came through, and he crouched down in front of her.

She had the scars on her cheek and forehead, and the small circular one right near her hairline. There was no rhyme or reason behind her being here and others not. It wasn't her time to go, and there was still some reason she was meant to be on this earth.

In his selfish opinion, it was for him. Beth Greene was meant to be with Daryl Dixon.

Always.

She had turned him inside out and made him a better man than he had ever dreamed of being.

"Hey, you," she whispered in a sleepy voice. "Been wonderin' when ya'd finally come home."

"You should be in bed," he said quietly.

"Ya know, that bed just doesn't feel right without ya there."

Daryl swallowed hard. "I know," he admitted softly. "Sometimes, ya'd come to me at night, and ya'd sing to me, and I'd finally get some rest."

"Sweetheart," she said and cupped his cheek.

"It was better than nothin'."

"I'm here now."

"Please, don't go away again," he spoke in a tense voice. "I tried to be better, ya know I did, but I just felt like everythin' was gone."

Beth nodded in understanding. "Ya know Morgan says ya were tha one I asked about tha most?"

He hummed and pressed his forehead to hers. They stayed that way for several seconds before she whispered. "I love ya so much."

Daryl nodded against her. "I'm sorry for not tellin' ya sooner."

"I'm sorry for sayin' "Oh.". I shoulda said exactly what I was thinkin'."

He pulled away just a little and asked, "What was that?"

"That I'd loved ya since that moment ya said ya were a dick when ya were drunk."

Daryl barked out a strained laugh. "I am."

"Ya are."

His eyes were closed as she brushed her lips over his, soft at first then a little stronger. He cupped her face into his hands and kissed her back. All the nervousness sinking away as she led him on for several move seconds. She smiled at him before she rolled away, and he scooted beside her on the couch then curled around her. They could have moved to the bed, but this was nice. It was close and safe, and he could feel her heart beating into his skin.

For a moment, he let himself think about before. Imagine a time when this apartment would have been full of pictures and family and all the things he had never had growing up.

Then he realized that all those things were already there.

He may not have the pictures, but he had family, and he had her, and he had more than he ever thought he would have.

"Daddy talked down an angel," she had told him once, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if Merle hadn't talked down the devil because he sure as shit didn't deserve this slice of heaven he had been granted.

* * *

The walls stood.

Life went on.

Walkers deteriorated.

Wars waged with neighboring settlements.

Family members died.

He had cried more than he cared to admit.

Beth cried more than she ever should have.

But still, they stood together. Her fingers linked with his, her scars blending with his own, and her life twining with his.

And that made everything worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I finished this chapter, it seemed very complete to me. So, as of right now, there will be no more added on. Maybe one day I'll add a small epilogue, but this seems like a good place to leave them.


End file.
